


Tales of the Sun

by AzarDarkstar



Series: AtLA Land [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Compliant, Dark, Drabble, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Het and Slash, Humor, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzarDarkstar/pseuds/AzarDarkstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A truth is still a truth, even when it's a lie. A collections of Avatar one-shots, drabbles, and various other words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her kingdom is beautiful. Ty Lee kneeling beside her weeps into the ash and rubble.

Azula – "A foolish man's paradise is a wise man's hell."

_The Devil's Playground_  


Her kingdom is beautiful. She sits upon her throne and gazes out with eyes glittering gold and a benevolent smile. It's lovely and red and everything she's ever dreamed. It is perfection. It is paradise.

Her people are happy. They bow before her graciously and bring offerings to show their thanks. And every word they utter is in praise of her efforts and strong guiding hand.

There is no more war. There is no more death or bloodshed. They are at peace. One people unified beneath her banner. And they rejoice.

Ty Lee kneeling beside her weeps into the ash and rubble.

-O.o.O-

Young Piandao – _Dream a dream, then end another. Life is there to interrupt._

_Waking Life_

He falls asleep to misery. To a tiny room in the orphanage that he shares with three other boys. To hunger pains and shaky limbs. To thoughts of fire in his hands and a smile on his face.

His dreams are filled with flames and light. Images of dragons and blue lightning. Whispers of warmth and embers and ashes rising like phoenix wings.

He dreams of his family. Of his parents and sisters. Of sitting around the table in their kitchen. Of learning to bend right alongside. Of his mother's soft smile and his father's pride. Of hugs and laughter and love.

His nightmares, however, are the truth. He's being dragged through the streets in the middle of the night. He begs and pleads, but his father doesn't stop. They just keep going and going and going to the edge of a city on another island from their home. He's shoved to the ground just outside the door, and his hands scrape the gravel as his father towers over him. The man says nothing, but Piandao doesn't need him to speak to know the words; he's heard them often enough.

Worthless. Useless. Hopeless.

He isn't a bender. He isn't wanted. He isn't welcome.

He has no family. He has parents who want him. No sisters to call his name. He has no place with them. He's just another orphan all alone in the world.

And Piandao wakes to emptiness.

-O.o.O-

Young Pakku – Against the Tide

_Ebb and Flow_

He could've stopped her. Pakku saw her the night she fled. He followed her to the little boat she'd hidden away and watched her push it from the shore. His own bending is strong enough that he could've called it back at any time. That he could've brought her to back him and never let her go.

But he just watches as she becomes a tinier and tinier speck on the horizon that's only lit by moonlight. He does nothing as she finally disappears entirely.

Water is about connection and family. It isn't freedom. It's flowing down already destined and predetermined paths. It's going with the current. It's surfing the tides.

But water is more than that, too. It's more than freezing and fighting and watching blood as it burns against the snow.

Healing, however, is women's work. That's what his father taught him. His uncles. His own master. Healing is what women do. They're the ones who mend what the men break. They're the ones who save lives, while men take them.

But just as surely as Pakku knows that, he also knows that keeping Kanna would've killed her. And he wants to be more than just a killer.

" _I don't want to be just a wife_ ," Kanna had said when he wasn't meant to overhear.

"I don't want to be just a warrior," Pakku finally replies.

But only the moon and ocean hear him.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one touches the scar. No one dares.

Zuko/Ty Lee

_Break the Sky_

He looks too much like Ozai now. It's the eyes and the curve of his cheek, the way his hair falls to his shoulders. But his mouth reminds her of Azula, the shape and the slant and the way he frowns just so. How his brow furrows and his chin lifts.

His heart though is all Iroh. Is all for Mai.

At least, it should be.

"I'm sorry," Ty Lee whispers one night as they stand side by side and lay flowers by an unmarked grave.

He seems genuinely puzzled then. Like he can't see any fault in her and honestly doesn't know what she means.

"For what?"

There are a thousand different things she could say, but all of them freeze and fall off her tongue.

_For not stopping your sister. For not standing up to her sooner. For not being able to resist you._

Ty Lee sighs as he cups her face, and his other hand goes to her swollen belly between them.

"For not being a better friend."

-O.o.O-

S1!Zuko

_Life on Fire_

No one touches the scar. No one dares. His men don't even like to look at it, and when they do, their eyes quickly flick away.

It's hideous and ugly and proof of his own weakness. Proof of his father's true feelings. Proof of things he can't yet admit to himself.

And somehow, despite being on a decrepit warship, there are reflective surfaces everywhere. Zuko can't escape the truth that's written on his own skin. It's always there. Glaring back at him from the windows. Demanding attention from the metal of the ship. Staring into his very being from each of the dinner dishes in front of them.

His uncle looks up from pouring tea as Zuko's hands clench into fists, and unlike everyone else, he is sad and not disturbed.

"Nephew," Iroh murmurs then and lifts a hand.

Zuko smacks it away.

-O.o.O-

Toph

_Iron Maiden_

She doesn't cry. She won't.

Toph leaves the Bei Fong estate the same way she returned. Head held high and chin lifted. Back straight and strong. Proud. She can't tell that her eyes are red, just that they burn, but she orders the tears to stay back and locks them away with an iron will.

She won't give them this. She won't give them the satisfaction. She won't bend her knee and apologize. She won't go crawling back and beg forgiveness.

They probably wouldn't hear her anyway.

After all, they don't have a daughter. They never have.

And she no longer has parents.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince with a blue mask. He's fire burning bright.

Femslash

_Dance in the Dark_

Fingers trace across her skin. Slender and exploring. Following each dip and dimple and imperfection. Feminine and light but still calloused and strong as they ghost across the scars on her leg.

She lets out a sigh that turns to a giggle as those fingers hit a ticklish spot on her thigh, and she leans back as another hand joins the first. Both travel upwards to her chest and linger before going to her shoulders and down her back. She sits up to allow full access and earns a beaming smile for her efforts. She just feels her eyes flutter closed as lips move to the junction between neck and shoulder.

Words are mouthed against her skin. Barely more than a whisper, but she hears at the same, and she falls asleep to arms wrapped around her middle.

Song wakes up alone.

-O.o.O-

Zutara (with Sokka)

_Becoming Brothers_

"So…" Sokka began with a smile that was at odds with the sharpness of his eyes and the general atmosphere of the party.

Zuko blinked at him but straightened his shoulders. "So what?"

Sokka tipped his head and gave him a look. His sword wasn't at his back, but his fingers twitched like it was. He reached for his drink instead.

"So my sister."

Zuko nodded to the server for another round. He _didn't_ look around the room for his guards. Or for Toph. Whoever was closer.

"Yeah."

That earned him another look.

"My sister," Sokka repeated like he was speaking to a particular dumb, deaf, and drooling rabbit-dog. "My only sister. The same girl you tied to a tree. Who you fought to get Aang. Who threatened you countless times. That very same person."

Zuko glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sweating. He wasn't.

"Yeah."

Sokka studied him for a long time. Looking from his expensive clothes to the symbol of the Fire Nation on his signet ring to his golden eyes. What he couldn't see was the scar on Zuko's chest from Azula's lightening. Or the betrothal necklace he'd made himself that Katara now wore. Or even the way Zuko's heart sped up when his gaze met hers across the room.

Sokka couldn't see any of that at the moment, but he still knew it was there all the same.

He smiled.

"Alright then."

-O.o.O-

He waits and waits more.  
Aang, my boy, where have you gone?  
Ashes in the sky.

One alone in the  
world. Names forgotten by all.  
"Who are you?" they ask.

She has no eyes to  
see. Only feet to feel and  
earth to hear. Toph laughs.

Prince with a blue mask.  
He's fire burning bright.  
He breathes in deeply.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toph hates it here. It's all snow and ice, and her feet can't see a damn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by _vynessia361_ over on LJ.

_Zuko in the Swamp_

  
  
"You won't find it here," the man says. "What you're looking for." 

Zuko scowls. His face feels like it's on fire. Like he was just injured again. Like Ozai is still standing over him, and he can hear the smirk in his father's voice even as he burns. Can hear Azula's laughter in the background. See Iroh turn away and do nothing.

He swallows. His fists shake before he can control himself.

Zuko knows that he has to be a sight. Disgraced Fire Nation Prince in full armor. Sweating not from the heat outside but the chill within. Standing in a swamp. A silly, stupid, stinking swamp.

The man before him is just as silly. Dressed in little more than a loincloth and a smile. But there's a gleam to his eyes. Not dark or hard. But sharp. Cutting straight through brain and bone to the heart of the matter. Like he can see straight through to Zuko's spirit and glimpse the agony within.

"You won't find it here," he says again, and his gaze is too knowing. Knowing but sad. Regretful even.

Zuko won't find it _ever_ is what he really means. But he's kind enough not to say it. Swamp-living peasant and he has pity for the poor, pathetic firebender.

It should make Zuko angry. Furious. Burning.

Instead, he's just tired.

He rubs his face, directly over his scar, and lets out a sigh as he turns away.

"It's the journey, not the destination, that matters," the man says to his back. "You'll get there one day."

Zuko stills, stiffens, and then keeps walking.

Huu gives him one more knowing look and goes to mediate beneath his favorite tree. Soon, more lost children will come calling.

Soon. But not soon enough.

-O.o.O-

  
_Camp Old People_

  
  
  
They sat. They shifted. They chatted and smiled and leaned back. The meal was delicious. The conversation was even better. But the night was winding down, and still, they lingered. Hesitating. Waiting. 

After all, dishes wouldn't do themselves, and nobody was eager to volunteer.

"I cooked dinner," Iroh commented pleasantly, holding out his cup as Piandao poured him more.

"You prepared dinner," Jeong Jeong corrected with a look. "I was the one who actually cooked it."

"True enough," Iroh offered, smiling, turning to gaze at his friends.

Piandao though was quick to head him off. "If you remember, I caught dinner." His voice dared Iroh to contradict him, but he only earned a wider smile.

Bumi cackled as they glanced at him. "Don't look at me. I brought the booze."

"And so you did," Iroh acknowledged, content with his tea. But he was the only one still drinking it.

A moment passed. They turned to Pakku in tandem then. His current frown deepened.

"No," he said over the brim of his cup.

Iroh wagged a finger at him. "But all of us must contribute. Such is the way of the world, and you must admit that waterbending would make it easy enough."

Pakku humphed and sat up straighter. "Cleaning is woman's work," he put in with a tone not out of place on a petulant child.

That only earned him a round of laughter.

"I can tell you haven't been married long," Jeong Jeong inserted with a wicked glint to his eyes.

"Most certainly," Iroh agreed.

Piandao just shook his head but wisely kept his mouth shut. Bumi elbowed him in the side and cackled again. Jeong Jeong snorted and poured another round, while Iroh kept smiling.

Pakku gave them all a dark look.

They purposefully ignored it. Just talked around him. Over him. Through him.

Pakku's scowl deepened. He stared into his cup and ignored them in turn. Just stared and kept staring until the liquid turned ice cold without him having to do anything.

Only then did Pakku look up. Only then did he realize.

They weren't there. Piandao, Jeong Jeong, and Iroh. They were gone. All three of them had gotten up and left while he was pretending they weren't there. Pakku was sitting at an empty table with nothing but the dinner dishes.

Which, of course, glimmered in the dying firelight and taunted him as they sat there. Practically jeering for him to get to work. Even his own cup seemed to sneer at him and demand to be cleaned.

Only the fact that Jeong Jeong would burn him alive for breaking his mother's teacups kept Pakku from throwing it and the whole table while he was at it. That and the fact that these were the only dishes they had. If he destroyed them, there weren't any others. And if he didn't wash them, there'd be nothing to have breakfast on tomorrow.

Pakku scowled at the trap he'd inadvertently stumbled into.

Bastards. The lot of them were bastards.

And with a sound bordering on a snarl, he started collecting dishes.

-O.o.O-

  
_Chibi!Sokka_

  
  
Katara claps her hands, and the snow turns to mush right beneath his feet. Sokka sinks down to knee-level and is still trying to climb out as she giggles and runs off to mom. He shoots a dark look after her, and no matter how hard he discreetly tries, the water is just water. It doesn't move unless he moves in it, and it certainly doesn't obey his quiet commands to turn back to snow. 

He struggles and eventually pulls himself free, but not until Bato has already walked by and given him a look that clearly questions his sanity. Sokka often questions it, too. Especially when dealing with his waterbending sister.

Even when he's right and she's wrong, he's still the one standing in melt-water and getting soaked. And if he dares retaliate by waving his boomerang at her, he gets a stern lecture once she tattles to dad.

And so what if he pushed her into a snowdrift earlier and used her doll for target practice? She deserved it for eating the last of the jerky. Even if mom said it was okay.

Man… Sometimes, it really sucks being the older and more responsible brother. Especially when there aren't any other kids their age and he takes the brunt of her attention.

Sokka shakes his head at that and turns towards their home to get dry. Maybe if he smiles nicely at mom, she'll even put his clothes by the fire and not ask too many questions while doing it. And maybe Katara won't be there to see it either. Maybe she'll still be out playing. Maybe she'll get pecked by the penguins. Or better yet, maybe she'll slip and fall off an iceberg.

Yeah. An iceberg.

Sokka is on his way home, still contemplating that happy thought when he hears a snicker. He has a few seconds to puzzle over it before the snow beneath his feet turns to pure ice, and his feet decide to go a different direction than the rest of his body.

He sees stars and little birdies too when he opens his eyes, and everything's all blurry when he lifts his head up.

There's a giggle in the background. All too girlish. All too familiar.

Sokka just drops his head back and groans.

-O.o.O-

  
_Toph AU_

  
  
Toph hates it here. It's all snow and ice, and her feet can't see a damn thing. Even without shoes. Not that she's going around barefoot since it's colder than her mother's glare when Toph plays in the mud. 

The people are weird, too. The men talk down to her for being a girl and a fighting bender, and the women don't like to talk to her at all. She's not feminine enough. She's not proper and quiet and meek and all those things her parents want her to be but she hates.

The others are gone all the time. Aang and Katara to train and be chased around by that Pakku guy. Sokka to poke people with swords and do manly things.

Toph just gets left behind. All day. Every day.

She really should've stayed in the Earth Kingdom. Had Aang come find her again when he was ready to learn earth and not water. But she was apparently more a sucker than she thought and somewhere between Aang's pleading, Katara's impassioned speech, and Sokka's logic, they'd convinced her to come along. And keep coming along all the way to the North Pole.

Toph sighs.

Still, it's not all bad. There's a city to explore. New people to annoy and pester. And yeah, it's hard to navigate when she really and truly can't see anything. But Yue is nice and takes her arm in a way that's meant to be helpful and not condescending.

That's not all either. There's one place in this land of suck that's actually worthwhile. Somewhere, there's actual earth. Somewhere, Toph can freaking see again, and now that she does, this is a super awesome spot.

Strange, admittedly.

A tree and grass amidst the snow and ice, complete with pond in the middle.

The water is surprisingly warm when she tests it, and her fingers tingle as she pets the fish she finds. The air smells faintly of flowers, and the grass is soft beneath her feet.

And if she comes back every day to sit under the tree and feed the fish, there's no one around to see.

-O.o.O-

  
_Iroh and Zuko_

    
  
He never asks. 

Zuko was there. He saw. His face was on fire at the time. But he was there nonetheless.

Uncle was, too. And that's the problem.

_Uncle was there._

There when he had his first Agni Kai. There when he surrendered unconditionally. There when his father…

Uncle was there. He saw. He knew.

He did nothing. Nothing until afterwards. Nothing until Ozai had stepped away and Zuko was writhing on the floor.

He patched Zuko up. He summoned the best healers. He even sat at Zuko's bedside for days. Weeks.

But that was after. Not before. And certainly not _during_.

Iroh just did what he'd always done. What everyone always does. Look away. Pretend not to see. Hope that Azula and Ozai – his own sister and father – won't kill him in the process.

And sure, he whispers words of sorrow and love later. Much later. When the room is dark and no one but Zuko can hear.

But he never says them when they matter. And Zuko never asks why he doesn't.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitter if done wrong. Strong and occasionally biting even if done right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by _crystaldrake_ over on LJ.

_Master Piandao_

  
  
It's a perfect fit.

Each groove is evenly spaced, and the weight is exactly right, light but not too light. The blade is unblemished save for etchings on either side near the crossguard, the swirling symbol for water and a lotus blossom. The steel has a faintly blue hue that brings an unconscious smile to Piandao's face, and it practically sings as he taps it with a thumbnail.

The hilt itself is made of bone, but he wraps it with a smooth leather so dark a blue that it's nearly black. The scabbard has a similar color, but it's edged with gold as befitting a future chieftain and world-renowned hero.

After all, it's not every day that the world enduring a century-long war suddenly finds peace. Or that a student Piandao thinks of as something of a son has such a large part in it. It's an even less frequent occur for said young man to have a birthday at the Fire Nation Palace. Particularly when he's from the Water Tribe.

But such is the way of things in this new and strange world. And it certainly makes things easier now, Piandao thinks, as he sheaths Sokka's sword one final time.

It would've been hell trying to deliver this to the South Pole.

-O.o.O-

  
_Bumi_

  
  
One day, Aang doesn't show up. He's a forgetful sort at times. Flighty, too. Always blowing on the wind and letting the breeze take him anywhere.

Bumi isn't surprised. He'd be all over the place if he was air, too. Here, there, and everywhere. Over the rainbows and through the clouds. Nothing could keep him down.

But Aang fails to show up the next day and then the third, and Bumi starts to feel something twist in his belly and turn cold like an Omashu night during winter. It goes positively glacial when Gyatso arrives in a whirlwind looking for Aang, only to leave just as quickly when he can't find him.

Then, the sky burns red from one horizon to the next. And the wind carries ash and a chill from the south.

Bumi knows then. Knows without knowing. Even as his parents lose their mad gleam and look at the world with fear. Even as he sits on the palace steps and listens to the entire city talk around him.

" _The air temples have been destroyed_ ," they whisper in the streets.

" _Killed down to the last child_ ," more say behind their hands.

" _No survivors at all._ "

But Bumi doubts that last one. No matter how good or deadly the Fire Nation is, they couldn't have gotten everyone. Not when fighting people who could literally be anywhere at any time as the very air moved them.

Some of them had to have made it out. Even if it took someone incredibly lucky, incredibly brave, or incredibly foolish to escape the Fire Nation's wrath and keep escaping it.

Fortunately for him though, Aang's all three.

-O.o.O-   


  
  
_Young Jeong Jeong and Iroh_   
  
  
  
"That's the third set this week," Jeong Jeong points out as he watches the last of the pai sho pieces turn to cinders. He idly rubs soot from his face and is perturbed to discover that part of his left eyebrow is now missing.

Iroh lifts his chin, fingers still smoking, and gazes across the scorched board. "Must've been faulty," he asserts with such a mile tone.

"You're just mad because you were losing," his friend points out, nudging away a smoldering bit of wood from near his teacup.

Iroh gives him a look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeong Jeong gives him a look right back. One that's much more effective since his face is without that lingering baby fat Iroh still has.

"You're sixteen. Not twelve. I'd think your bending under better control," Jeong Jeong comments slyly.

That earns him another look in turn. One that promises punishment when they spar later. Of course, it also serves to make him all too similar to Azulon, and isn't that a scary thought?

"It's a stupid game anyway," Iroh declares loftily, sounding exactly like the prince he is in truth.

"Sure, sure." Jeong Jeong gives him a dismissive wave. "Which is why you're so eager to learn and then challenge your father."

He's given something that goes beyond a glare and straight to glower territory. It's a funny thing for Iroh's round cheeks, but he manages it well enough. When his face finally thins out, it'll probably be a sight to see. Especially across a battlefield.

Not that Jeong Jeong is going to be fighting him or anything. Save that for the Earth Kingdom idiots. He likes to think of himself as smarter than that.

But then, he is the one trying to teach a temperamental Fire Nation prince while beating him soundly at the same time.

Perhaps smarter isn't exactly the best word for that. Especially when Jeong Jeong shakes his head and turns to a nearby cabinet to pull out yet another set of tiles.

For now, he has a different arena in mind than a battlefield. Perhaps a more dangerous one even.

His scorched eyebrows are proof enough.

-O.o.O-

  
  
_Pakku_

  
  
He starts carving the first day he sees her again.

She's older now. So is he. Hair gone completely grey, but with blue eyes that still burn and make him weak at the knees. A raging torrent that's only grown more controlled but sharper as she matured.

Older now. Old. But still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

Her smile is just the same. So is her smirk. He sees the latter often as she puts him to work and the former not nearly enough.

He kills a tigerseal for bone that he dyes a deep blue with a lighter purple edge and offers her the meat with a guileless grin that she doesn't believe for a second. The cord is made of fine silk that he won in a game of cards years before from Bumi, and it soon becomes a lovely light blue that even the sky would envy.

The resulting product has inverse colors from the normal betrothal necklace, but they are hardly the normal couple. Part of him thinks it fitting. A reversed necklace for the south, a place similar but so different than the north.

It fits perfectly around her neck. Just as he hoped it would. And it matches her bridal dress shade for shade.

-O.o.O-

  
_Iroh and His Tea_

  
  
His father hated tea. Hated it with a passion normally reserved for idiot subordinates and unruly peasants. Azulon would've banned tea had it been practical, and as it were, he scowled if even the barest whiff teased his nose. 

His mother loved it though. She was the one to teach Iroh how to brew. How to patiently wait for the leaves to steep. How to add a flick of sugar or spice for taste. How to sip it just so and keep it from scalding his tongue.

It was the only point they differed on. The only thing that ever caused arguments. In all else they were the perfect couple. The perfect family. The perfect royalty leading their nation and the world to glory.

It's only later. Only when Iroh is older and his hair streaked with grey. Only when his own son whispers to him questions about the war and why they're still fighting, that Iroh understands.

Tea wasn't just tea but something else entirely.

Jasmine was the colonies. Subtle. Subdued.

White tea, the Air Nomads. Soft. Simple. So easily overrun.

Oolong, the Water Tribes. Stronger than first glance. A varied flavor that was so hard to grasp.

Green was obviously the Earth Kingdom. Heartier than most. Stubborn in the face of other, supposedly better flavors.

Black tea, the Fire Nation itself. Coloring everything else. Bitter if done wrong. Strong and occasionally biting even if done right.

Different flavors. Strong, subtle, simple. Different ideas. Different peoples. Similar at times but never the same. And Iroh liked all of them just the way they were.

Apparently so did his mother.

His parents had rarely argued. And only over tea. But his mother had never needed words to make her point.

Later, Iroh doesn't either.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't care about the blood stains.

Hidden

_Devil in the Details_

Her face is bored, blank.

He's a centipede, a bug that needs to be squished, but he slithers like a snake. Coiling and curving around her. Tighter and tighter. Like the noose to her neck.

"I could help you, you know," Koh whispers in her ear.

The face he wears is stolen. Just like everything else he owns. Stolen. Taken. Forced from some hapless soul.

But Mai isn't hapless. Or helpless. Mai is in the control. Perfectly blank and bored and boring.

Koh isn't buying it. Not yet. But that's not what she's selling anyway. She has a different angle. A different goal. And he'll never see this one coming. Not until too late.

"All it takes is a little smile," he murmurs. So enchanting, so deadly. A knife wrapped in silk.

She will smile. But not now. Not yet.

Koh coils around again. His stolen face isn't blank. Is filled with emotion he doesn't think to hide

Mai fingers the mirror up her sleeve.

-O.o.O-

Blood Money

_Crimson Princess_

She doesn't care about the blood stains.

Gold is gold is food in her belly. A warm bed. A cozy fire. A room with a lock on the door.

She knows the value of all of them now. How much they're really worth.

A fight. A life. Blood seeping over her fingers. Hot and coppery as she rifles through pockets and turns over a body to search through the ones on the back.

This is so different from her last life. Her first life. So different. But not worse.

Razor sharp knives in place of words. A man who shares her bed and her body but would see both her and her children dead and use their corpses as a stepping stone if the opportunity presented itself.

Maybe it's not so different at all. Maybe it's the same but more honest. More forthright.

The man in front of her now, threatening to take her loot, even looks a little like her husband. His blood is just as red, and if only her husband were so easily dead.

But that's a fight for another time. And this current fight is over now.

Ursa cleans off her knife.

-O.o.O-

Puzzled

_Thicker Than Water_

His face is priceless. A little confused. More than a bit surprised. Shocked to see her.

It's been years after all. Years and years. She's a woman now. Released from her own prison and free to wander the world as she pleases.

She's watched; she knows that. But what's the point in fighting them? They've won. Anything she does will only turn everyone against her. Will only see her imprisoned again. Will only see her powers taken.

It'd taken forever as it is. Forever to convince them to let her go. Forever and her own brother's promises to see her free.

And she intends to stay that way.

But there's one last thing she needs to do first.

She wanders over to the cell and can feel the eyes of both the guards and her brother at her back. She doesn't care though. She's not here for a jailbreak. Just a little chat. Just a little reminiscence.

Just a little reminder, that while he may have been the Phoenix King and the so-called absolute ruler, she's the one on the good side of the bars. The one with the exit.

Besides, she's a woman now. He's just an old man. Old and broken. Powerless.

She's the one in control. She doesn't need him. She's not afraid of him anymore.

His face though. His face is almost worth all of it.

The initial shock. The flash of bewilderment. The settling knowledge that even she has turned against him. That his last holdout for hope has been burned to ashes and scattered to the four winds.

"Hello, father," she says, and it's pure venom that takes even her brother by surprise.

Ozai flinches.


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't care who wins the war.

_Go The Spoils_

She doesn't care who wins the war. Not really.

Well, that's a lie. But it's also sort of true.

Fire Nation. Earth Kingdom. Water Tribe. They're all too busy fighting. Too busy drawing blood and burning. Flooding and crushing.

One battler over here. Another over there. Killing their enemies. And a bunch of other people besides.

Soldiers and warriors. Generals. Kings. Even Avatars. They're all the cause.

It's the civilians who suffer. The ordinary folks. Not people like her. Not bounty hunters or pirates or profiteers. Business is booming.

But money isn't everything.

It doesn't let her sleep at night. It doesn't stop the shaking of her hands at the sight of yet another dead kid. It doesn't keep her belly from rebelling at the smell of bloated bodies floating down river. It doesn't end the fires that turn the countryside to cinders or the rock slides that swallow whole villages.

War is good for business. Bad for everything else. Bad for sleep. Bad for living.

She looks at the kids surrounding her. Begging her with their words and their eyes.

June sighs.

-O.o.O-

_Beholden_

She isn't from the Fire Nation.

Don't get her wrong. They pay good and are far less likely to send a knife, rock or otherwise, into her back after the job is done. They respect good service and don't look down on the person who gives it. Even if that person just happens to be a woman.

She might work for them. But she'll never be one of them.

She isn't much Earth Kingdom either though. She doesn't care about tradition or being the perfect lady who's seen but not heard. She isn't polite. She doesn't like green. She only waits and listens because it's her job and she's damn good at it.

She's not fire. She's lousy at earth. She'd probably be worse at water. She doesn't even want to think about air.

She's just herself. No affiliation needed.

And that's the way June likes it.


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He does it first as a joke. But a lie has now become a truth, and he doesn't know what to do.

_Better Red Than Dead - Wang Fire, Hero of the Fire Nation_

He does it first as a joke.

As something to amuse himself and his sister and their friends. As an attempt to lessen their burden and lighten their hearts. To make Aang smile and Toph laugh and Katara just shake her head.

But a lie has now become a truth, and he doesn't know what to do.

"That's him," the crowd whispers with something far too much like awe.

"It's _him_!" others agree in wonder.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," the old woman in red nearly cries beside him.

"He saved me," her grandson says, and his eyes are full of adoration. "He saved me!"

"Savior," they whisper amongst themselves.

"Hero."

But their praise tastes like ashes and betrayal on his tongue.

-O.o.O-

_Azula/Kuei_

He wonders what his funeral will be like. Kuei knows it can't be too long now.

Her eyes are golden. Cold as they look at him in the morning over breakfast. Calculating as she watches the servants tend their infant son. Dead as she smiles and keeps smiling until even Long Feng has to look away.

" _Political alliance_ ," they'd said.

" _Marriage of convenience_ ," his generals had added.

Death sentence is what they really mean.

He can already smell it on her skin. Hear it in her laugh. Taste it on her breath as she leans in for a poisonous kiss.

His funeral will be a spectacle the likes of which his city has never seen before.

Hers will be even better.

-O.o.O-

_Iroh/Ursa_

The meadow is a lovely place, but the gravesite is unmarked. He doesn't dare even write her name on the lone tree in the middle. It's too much a risk, too much a chance someone will see. He can only lay his hand on the trunk and bow his head.

Remembering.

" _We'll find her one day, won't we?"_

_Zuko is grown now, but his voice is still that of a child. Lost but hopeful. Pleading for him to make it right._

_Iroh can only offer a sad smile and a nob. His throat is too dry, too tight. His hands shake, and he's too afraid to reach for his nephew's shoulder._

It smells of flowers. Of green places and living things. She'd like it here, Iroh thinks. She'd love the breeze and the soft grass. Eyes and voice soft as she watched the sunrise.

Ursa always looked best in the morning light, though truthfully she'd been lovely all the time. Beautiful. Breathtaking as the children laughed and ran around her skirts. Smiling up at him with a private look.

So close but just out of reach.

_There's too much blood, and all of it is hers. Her breathing is labored, hard and fast. Struggling._

_There's nothing he can do. He'd found her too late. Always too late. Too slow._

_Too slow to see what his brother had. Too slow to return once his son had died. Too slow to save her now._

" _Iroh," she breathes, and it's full of relief and affection and something they could voice aloud. "Iroh."_

_Her hand reaches up for his face, and he catches it before it can fall. He wants to tell her about Zuko, about what a fine man he's grown to be. He wants to tell her of their adventures, of all the years she missed. He wants to tell her all the things he never could earlier._

_But it's too late for that now._

_Ursa manages a smile as she looks at him though._

" _Iroh… Don't tell him," she murmurs, but her voice is faint. Little more than a whisper. "Don't tell Zuko."_

_She's gone before he can even think to reply._

-O.o.O-

_June/Piandao_

She doesn't get paid enough for this.

No. Really. She doesn't.

Because really, in the end, no amount of gold is worth this much effort. Is worth the frustration and Nyla's snuffles. June's aching back and thighs from days of riding. The gash on her arm that is still seeping blood an hour later.

Worse even, she's doing this for free.

Oh, he offered money. Lots of it. But like the idiot she is, June's doing it for nothing.

For little more than a nice smile and a voice that makes her heart tighten. Though admittedly, things a bit lower tighten, too.

A perhaps that's really the problem here.

Not her still squirming bounty. Not her tired and beaten body. Not even the exhausted Nyla beneath her.

It's the warmth she receives as she pulls up beside him. The hand he offers and she actually accepts before he helps her down. The sparkle in his eyes as he looks her right in the face and not anywhere else. The way he says her name as they talk.

Worse yet is that same smile. One that grows and widens as they finish their business but she continues to linger.

June is too tired for this. Too hungry. Too heartsick. But she stays and still stays as the minutes tick on.

Piandao just smiles at her a second longer.

Then, he offers to buy her dinner.


	9. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ty Lee is married now. And Mai is just ashes on the wind.

_Piandao/Ursa_

"Ozai wants another child," she says, and her eyes are dark in a way that has nothing to do with the dimness of the room.

Piandao pauses, fingers now still against her naked skin. His hands are calloused and rough, but she's a princess. Soft and delicate. At least, she should be. He's long known the truth of Ursa where her own husband never has. She's more fire and warrior than Ozai could ever dream.

"Does he?" Piandao asks, tone soft and almost mild.

She shifts next to him, knee sliding between his thighs. It isn't intended to be sensual, but he finds everything about her to be that one way or another. His mind goes hazy for a second, but he's a gentleman enough to listen as she speaks.

"He hasn't said as much aloud." Her lips are a murmur against his neck. Rich and too enticing. "But I know him, even if he doesn't know me. He wants another child. A boy. He still-"

"-wants a son worthy of him," Piandao finishes the thought for her. He runs a soothing hand down her back as she shudders against him. Not from fear but from anger. Scorching and steaming and turning her skin hot.

They both know what Ozai thinks of his children, and his opinions are far from reality.

Azula is too much like her father and grandfather. And monster isn't a word Piandao uses lightly.

Zuko, however, is a good boy. A good, precious boy who might be lacking in his firebending at times but is shaping up to be an impressive swordsman.

That he happens to have a teacher willing to reward instead of punish goes without saying.

"And what do you think of this?" Piandao questions, honestly curious.

"I think…" She pauses, but he can feel her lips curl into a smile against his skin as she nuzzles his neck further. "I think I'd very much love another child."

Her knee moves between his legs again, and this time, he knows exactly what she means. Particularly as she curls closer and slides against him. Shifting them both until he's flat on his back and she hovers about him.

"Really?"

It isn't quite surprise in his words. More likely a guess and a question both.

"Certainly." Her voice is edged with strength and wickedness now. "As long as my husband isn't the father."

-O.o.O-

_Ty Lee/Zuko_

Ty Lee cries at her wedding. No one really knows the reason why.

They think she's so happy. They believe she's too excited. They say it's all so wonderful. That she's so beautiful. Lucky.

And she is.

But she shouldn't be.

This isn't her place. Ty Lee shouldn't be here. Wearing this dress. Before this crowd. Next to this man.

But she is, and no one seems to realize but her. No one seems to care. Not even Zuko.

His hands are warm and hold hers all night. His smile is soft and delighted. His eyes are bright, happy. See only her.

They shouldn't though. He should be searching for someone who isn't even here.

But he doesn't. And a part of her is glad for that. Glad that he never looks away. Glad that he sneaks kisses even when their friends can still see. Glad that this night is everything she ever dreamed of as a little girl.

She has it all. She has everything.

Ty Lee is married now. She's the new Fire Lady.

And Mai is just ashes on the wind.

-O.o.O-

_Sokka/Zuko_

They call him uncle. The kids do. All three of them. The irony isn't lost on him, but admittedly, his situation is very different from Iroh's. But altogether, it's also the same.

He isn't Iroh, but he still loves his sibling's spouse. Katara isn't Ozai; she's not evil. She's just not there anymore. And Zuko isn't Ursa. He's not a woman on the run after saving her children. He's just a man who lost his wife far too early. He was grieving, and Sokka was grieving, and somehow, that became something else entirely.

Somehow, that became coming to stay for a few weeks that turned into months that turned into years. Somehow, it became birthday parties and lessons and trips to the beach with just them and three eager children. Somehow, that became Zuko slipping into his bed every night and curling next to him.

The servants know. Sokka knows that they do. But they say nothing and hint nothing and maybe even smile when he asks to bring Zuko tea on his own.

The kids do, too. They're old enough for some things, too young for others. But they know. They know that Uncle Sokka isn't just there to watch over them.

Iroh knows. He and Sokka share drinks at least once a week at the teashop the old man now runs in the capital, and Iroh's eyes are too knowing as he watches his nephew.

So do his friends. It's not really a surprise with how often they're at the palace. Aang isn't an oblivious boy anymore, and Toph has always been hard to fool.

Suki knows. She wasn't his wife, but Sokka's thinks she would've been. If Katara hadn't gotten sick. If Katara hadn't died. Suki knows, and she isn't angry. There aren't furious words or fighting. She just offers him a wistful smile before going back to her own home.

And Zuko… He was the first to admit what was between them. Sokka was the last. He couldn't say it. Couldn't step into his sister's place so easily. But Zuko had needed someone, and kids had needed someone, and Sokka had needed it, too.

They still call him uncle though, and Sokka thinks that it's perfectly alright.


	10. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this was victory, Zuko couldn't imagine failure.

_Ursa/Hakoda_

Zuko's mouth opened. Then, it closed. Opened. Closed. Once. Twice. Innumerable times.

"You…"

But his voice trailed off like he'd forgotten how to speak.

Ursa primly sipped at her tea. Her cup hid her smirk.

"He's a very nice man, I assure you, dear."

Zuko stared at her.

"He is," she insisted and put her cup down, so mild despite her son's antics. "Nothing like… _my past suitors_."

Zuko kept staring.

She sighed.

"He's kind. A true gentleman. A good leader. A great man." Her gaze turned distant, and the corners of her mouth twitched. "Great at other things, too."

Zuko's face went from white to pink instantly.

Ursa pretended not to notice.

"He's never raised a hand to me. Never so much as raised his voice."

Her son sat up even straighter at that, but his blush lingered.

Ursa merely tilted her chin. And really, for such a pleasant face, she resembled a tiger-wolf right now. Prowling around for the perfect time to pounce.

"He loves his children. And his mother. All of his people. Deeply. Completely. _Equally_."

Each word was a poised strike to her son's resistance, and Ursa knew it.

"He-"

Zuko couldn't contain himself anymore.

"He's Sokka's father! And Katara's! He'll be Aang's father-in-law!"

His words went from loud to faint then, and realization set in. His eyes were impossibly wide with something a lot like wonder.

"Agni…" he breathed, "I'm going to be their brother."

Ursa didn't bother to hide behind her cup this time.

-O.o.O-

_Toph and Zuko (and Lin)_

Zuko looks at Toph. Toph isn't looking at much of anything.

"So…" he begins, watching her. Studying the shadows on her face and the fact that her cheeks are thinner than he remembers. Than they should be.

"So… what?" Toph counters.

Her mouth is a smirk, but something of her movement betrays her. Maybe it's the slight tightening to her eyes. Perhaps it's the stiffness to her shoulders. Maybe it's the way she hasn't even touched her tea yet.

Or maybe… Just maybe, it's the almost rounded abdomen that practically screams at his eyes to take a good look.

A hard knot forms in his chest even as he does. Zuko knows Toph. He knows what she's like. How she is. Can guess exactly why she's here and not sending out announcements and invitations for everyone and sundry.

He swallows, but his throat is still too dry.

"So… a baby," Zuko finally ventures.

Toph tries to play it cool, but her teeth worry at her lip before she can stop herself. She isn't a girl anymore; she isn't. But she looks it in that moment. Looks it more than she ever had at twelve. Looks young and uncertain. And maybe a little bit afraid.

"Yep," she acknowledges after a few heartbeats.

He doesn't ask how this happened. Since really, he's a father himself. He knows _exactly_ how this happens. Besides, he knows Toph would probably never admit the truth anyway. Even if it's not nearly as horrible as his overactive imagination is demanding to make it.

Instead, Zuko just nods.

"Congratulations," he offers, and he sees the wince even as she smiles.

It's a nice smile though. Warm and genuine. Soft at the edges. A good sign then. She truly does want this baby.

Zuko breathes out, and it's relief. He offers his own grin.

But in the back of his head, he's already making plans. Already deciding how the usual room Toph stays in will have to be changed. How to best add a nursery. Or they could move her to the one they'd used for their own children. He could have the servants bring everything out of storage, and it'd put Toph just three doors down from his shared room with Mai.

"Thanks," Toph states then, and he can tell that she means it.

And not just for what he says. More like what he doesn't.

Zuko makes a sound in his throat and pours more tea.

He still doesn't ask after the father. And really, it doesn't matter in the end. This is Toph's baby. Her child.

That's all Zuko needs to know.

-O.o.O-

_Anything that you're willing to give me_

Sokka tapped his finger on his chin.

"I do like it," he said and turned his head this way and that. Squinted some. Leaned forward and then back. Tilted his head left and right and left again.

Suki watched him with an amused air.

"Good," she informed him. "Your daughter spent hours on it."

"Well… It's nice." He even dared to point a finger at her. "Super nice. It's wonderful. Just what I wanted."

She gave him a look. One composed of a lifted eyebrow, a head tilt, and a hand on her hip.

"You have no idea what this is, do you?" Suki asked, but it really wasn't a question.

Sokka immediately had a sheepish and guilty look. He scratched his lip. Shuffled his feet. Rolled his shoulders.

"Not really," he admitted and turned back to the… _thing_. "She does get her artistic ability from me after all."

Suki sniggered.

-O.o.O-

_Zuko/Suki_

She didn't cry. He didn't either. Her mouth tasted like ash, and his breath was bitter as he brushed hair from her eyes.

Victory wasn't winning at all. Ozai was dead. Azula was defanged. The world was saved.

Everyone else was gone. Lost. Dead.

They were dead.

Aang hadn't survived Ozai. He'd hesitated at the end, and that had been his undoing. But it'd been just long enough for Toph. Just long enough for her to strike the fatal blow even as Ozai killed her back.

Katara and Sokka were buried at sea in the traditions of their people. Both of them were honored beyond imaging; they were heroes. They'd saved hundreds, thousands.

Chief Hakoda hadn't spoken since.

Mai had never made it out of prison. Zuko had laid her to rest himself. Had lit the pyre and scattered her ashes beneath the trees they'd played under as kids.

They had no idea what had happened to Ty Lee.

Now, it was just the two of them. The only ones left.

Fire and fan.

Laying together amidst the finery and feeling like it was little more than rubble. Twining in a bed and with a person that doesn't belong to either of them. Sleeping next to ghosts and memories. Hearing their screams. Watching them die. Over and over and over again.

If this was victory, Zuko couldn't imagine failure.


	11. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wonders what she'll be like. It's a slightly morbid thought, but Aang knows that he's getting older now.

_Symphony_

The air is clear, a little cool. The early morning sky is cloudless, still tinted pink and purple, but there's still a hint of moisture now before the summer sun can burn it away.

Absolutely perfect.

She sits in the middle of the courtyard, back to the open sky. Her fingers strum nonexistent strings and dance in front of her at a slow and easy tempo. She hums it first, a reverse lullaby to waken the world, and the air shifts as the first strands of melody breathe into life around her.

There are no bells, but somehow, their ring joins in a perfect interval to the tinkle of a chime. A horn calls out as the wind rises. Another follows at a lower pitch. Then a higher one. The pound of a drum that fills her heart first and then her lungs before slipping free. A flute teases its way in, and pipes trail after to linger when the horns abruptly die.

She breathes out, and the symphony falters. Jumps and starts as the air swirls in an unfamiliar and unwelcome pattern. As other energies waken and beckon it to bend and twist in ways at odds with the harmony earlier.

A new group has come to the stage, and they are impatient for the performers to finish. She sighs then and knows her concert is at its end.

But there's always tomorrow and tomorrow after that.

-O.o.O-

_Four Sentences – These Words_

Fire burns; it's always burning. Water ebbs and flows in streams and rivers and oceans. Earth is steady, even as it shakes. Air breathes.

-O.o.O-

_Who Am I? – Mirrors_ (Iroh and Ursa)

Her hair is shorter now. Not excessively but just enough to have loose strands curl into her face just so. Her smile is sharp behind those full lips, white with a glint of teeth. Her eyes almost seem wide and round, but the innocence is false at best even in broad daylight. And he knows without seeing that there'll be blood underneath her fingernails, even as he watches them tap against her chin.

The resemblance goes right past uncanny before darting by unsettling and straight over into unnerving.

It isn't one thing. It's many. It's everything. It's the entire package.

Not the clothes. More like the way she wears them. As if they were armor. As if they were the finest silks available.

And everything else.

The hair. The mouth. The stance. The flick of her fingers. The curve of her neck as she tilts her chin just right.

She looks exactly like…

He shakes his head.

This isn't what he was looking for at all. Not in the slightest. The truth is worse than any lie he could ever think up. Is worse than not knowing.

He swallows then and ducks behind a passerby before her attention turns his direction. He's down the alleyway and streets over within a minute. Out of the town entirely within ten.

He never goes back.

-O.o.O-

_Avatar Day – Succession_

He wonders what she'll be like.

It's a slightly morbid thought, and one that he never shares with Katara. But Aang knows that he's getting older now. That he's old. He's still spry, but his energy has faded. He can feel it in his blood and bones that his time is ending.

Maybe it'll be sickness. Or even an accident. Or perhaps the world has just decided that it's time for him to rest.

Still, he knows the end is coming. Thinks it'll be less than a year now.

And he can't help but wonder what she'll be like. The Avatar after him.

He knows it'll be a girl this time. Just like he knows air currents and the sound of his children's voices. The Avatar will be a woman. From the Water Tribe. He thinks she'll even be from the South Pole.

Years ago, he'd thought perhaps it was time for one of the swampbenders or maybe even someone from one of the smaller groups. But that just doesn't feel right, even as he considers the possibilities.

She'll be Southern Tribe definitely. Maybe even one of the current pregnancies. Or one just around the corner.

Either way, Aang knows she'll be here soon. Too soon. Maybe not soon enough.

It's just a matter of time now. Just a matter of enjoying every second with his family. Every kiss shared with Katara. Every morning waking up.

But he still wonders. Still ponders lots of things about her.

What she'll be like. Her name. Her role in the world.

Most of all, if she'll be as happy as he was.


	12. Part Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang does blush then. Ursa fights not to coo from sheer delight.

_Zuko!Whump_

A lip wibbles. There's a sniffle then. A watery cough follows. The scent of salt wafts to his nose.

Zuko sighs.

"It's really alright. I promise." He gives a smile, but the tiny mouth before him quivers. His hand hurts, but he still uses it to ruffle dark hair. "It's only a little burn."

But apparently, that's entirely the wrong thing to say.

"I'm sorry, daddy," his daughter cries and flings her arms around his waist as her forehead all but melds with his stomach.

Zuko doesn't cringe. He doesn't push her away. He isn't his father. He isn't Ozai to shove her at her mother.

Instead, he just cups her head and pulls her closer. Soothes her with one hand on her back and another in her hair. Holds her long after the crying stops.

-O.o.O-

_Grown Up GAang_

They still meet once a year. Sometimes, at Iroh's old teashop, now owned by his former assistant. Occasionally, at Ember Island. Even a few times at the South Pole where it all began.

It still amazes him how much all of them have grown. How much older they all look.

Zuko's hair has gone grey. Wrinkles line Katara's face. There are age spots on Toph's hands and feet. Sokka's eyes are almost cloudy with age.

But now matter, how old they are or how old they get, they're still the people Aang met as a boy. They're still his family.

"Get out of the bison's mouth."

"Your tea tastes like crap today."

"Sit up straighter. Slouching is bad for your back."

"We're sparring later, right? Ow… Hey!"

Yep. Still the same.

-O.o.O-

_Love Triangle_ \+ _Crack Fic_

"So let me get this straight. Sokka is in love with Suki, who loves him back but is also enamored of Zuko. Since he's a mysterious dark prince, but she feels guilty since he burned her village down."

"Got it so far."

"And in the meantime, Zuko is having a secret affair with Katara, who's trying to let Aang down gently after an unfortunate love confession before the invasion. But Zuko is also pining after Mai, who he thinks has turned evil."

"Yep. And don't forget the part where I have the hots for Sokka, and you have a girl-crush on both Suki and Katara."

"But I thought that I was supposed to be with Mai. Or Azula. Or like… both of them at the same time."

"What can I say? You're very flexible."

"And wasn't Mai supposed to be… you know, with Master Piandao?"

"Only because Azula ordered it."

"And the thing with Iroh?"

"That, too."

"Huh… Weird."

"Don't I know it? And this is just what happened before the first intermission."

-O.o.O-

_Spirit World_

She's just a little thing really. She reminds him of his own children when they were still small enough to fit in his lap and young enough to enjoy being there.

So small. Too small to be here.

"Well, hello there," he greets as he very slowly approaches.

Her eyes are big and blue and without a trace of suspicion. Instead, she just offers a warm grin that's missing a few teeth. She walks up to him then. So innocent. So trusting. So completely at ease in this alien landscape.

"What's your name?" he asks, but he already knows before she even replies.

"Korra."

Her grin widens even more as he bends down to her level. He feels himself smile in response.

"It's very nice to meet you, Korra," he tells her then as he takes her offered hand. "I'm Aang."

-O.o.O-

_Ursa and Aang_

He isn't what she expected.

It's such an obvious statement really. She'd expected him to be unexpected. As odd as that sounds. She'd expected him to be different.

He was Air after all. She knew the stories. Everyone did.

But she hadn't quite expected this.

"Hello, Lady Ursa," he says, and his voice is light. Full of life and laughter. But his smile is almost shy and self-depreciating. His eyes flicker from her to Zuko and back. He almost blushes when he does.

Ursa can't help but chuckle. "You don't have to call me that."

"But… I…" He nearly blanches.

"It's just Ursa," she tells him warmly. "After all, my son tells me that you're friends."

Aang does blush then.

It's nearly as cute as when her son does it. She fights not to coo from sheer delight.

He isn't what she expected, but she certainly likes the difference.


	13. Part Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara sees it as a disaster waiting to happen. Toph thinks it's funny. Zuko wisely keeps his mouth shut.

_GAang Version 2.0_

Katara doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Toph just snorts. Zuko rolls his eyes and goes back to making tea.

They all pretend not to watch their children as they run around like wild things.

Only one of them is Toph's, but Lin has more than enough energy to make up for her lack of siblings. She practically dances circles around Zuko's only son, though Lu Ten tends to be rather sedate anyway. She and Bumi wrestle for a while; she wins. No surprise there. Lin even has time to tickle baby Pema, Ty Lee's niece, before dashing off again.

Tenzin, sweet but serious Tenzin, is her favorite target.

Katara sees it as a disaster waiting to happen. Toph thinks it's funny. Zuko wisely keeps his mouth shut.

-O.o.O-

_Lin Backstory_

It's Mai who names her.

Toph is strangely indecisive about the whole thing, and Aang makes useless and increasing strange suggestions. He's aided and abetted by Sokka with Ty Lee throwing in her own ideas. Katara tries – and fails – to rein them in, and really, Zuko doesn't think she's trying all too hard. She's too delighted over the fact that Toph has finally joined the rest of them in the joys of parenthood. And admittedly, Katara is not so secretly gleeful since Toph has playfully mocked the lot of them for years.

Zuko says nothing that can be held against him later on and just rocks the infant to soothe her as her mother snores nearby. Mai sits next to him, and the look on her face would be wistful on anyone else. But he knows how many knives she carries on her person, and he rather likes his body parts as they are, thanks very much.

Still, the way she looks at the baby says everything that she'll never admit, and the more Zuko watches her, the more he realizes how long it's been since he's held any of their kids like this. They're all too old for it now.

She misses this, Zuko realizes. He does, too. He misses having an infant in his arms and Mai sitting next to him as they watch the baby sleep. Misses watching innocent eyes discover the world. Misses the first laugh, the first grin. The first steps and words and kisses.

Mai sighs then. Still wistful.

But Zuko smiles.

Eleven months later, baby Lin has a new playmate. A boy who's nearly ten years younger than his three sisters.

Zuko gets to name this one.

-O.o.O-

_Lin and Iroh 2.0_

He doesn't bring her flowers. She appreciates that. This is mortifying enough without them. Particularly with everyone watching and pretending that they aren't.

Naturally, that includes Tenzin and his family. Korra, her friends. Just about the entire military of the United Forces.

Lin doesn't blush as it occurs to her just how many people are listening. She's a grown woman; she won't blush! But she doesn't frown either.

She should. She should narrow her eyes, thin her lips, and tell him exactly what to do with himself. But she hasn't, and as time stretches on, she knows she won't.

He's too young. She's too old. There are a thousand other reasons why this is a horrible idea.

But at the end of the day, she's still a woman. Neglect that part of herself as she's wont to do. She's a woman, and he's a handsome man, and maybe, possibly, even though she'd never admit it in a million years, it's flattering.

It's just dinner. Not a marriage proposal. Not even an invitation to come back to his place. She hasn't even gotten so much as a kiss to the cheek yet.

But she still says yes.

It's not nearly as grudgingly as it should be.

-O.o.O-

_Missing Moments – Ursa_

She doesn't talk about where she was. Ursa knows that her son wonders, but she always gently deflects him and changes the subject. He worries; Ursa knows that, too. He thinks she was on the run. Or imprisoned. Forever waiting for pain or torture or praying for the end.

The truth is worse than any nightmare his mind could ever conjure.

The entire time, she was… _safe_. Comfortable. Ozai hadn't done anything to her. He'd let her go. To one of the summer homes her parents had kept on an outer island.

She'd lived in that nice comfortable house. With nice comfortable furniture and nice comfortable rooms. Good food. As much of it as she wanted. Walks along the beach. Books and a fireplace to curl up with at night. A local market to visit when she was lonely. Friends even.

When her son was near dying and on an impossible mission, while her daughter slipped into madness, Ursa had a life. She was alive and safe and maybe even content. While both her children suffered and bled, Ursa was comfortable.

And that's worse than any punishment Ozai ever could've given.


	14. Part Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is surprisingly pleasant, Aang decides.

_Lost_

It's more than being out of reach. It's more than being out of sight.

He can still hear the whisper of Lu Ten's voice. His wicked laughter. See his boyish smile. Feel phantom hands on his shoulders.

Even as he watches Zuko train on the deck, his son stands beside him. As they eat dinner, Lu Ten sits next to his cousin with an all-too-familiar grin. When they cross this world and explore every corner, Lu Ten is right there with them.

He's in every step. Each city and town. All the battles.

He's standing in the shadows as they reach a crossroads. And that's where it all goes wrong.

Lu Ten drifts left. Zuko heads right. And Iroh is left behind to stare after both of them.

-O.o.O-

_Lost, Take Two_

To be the Avatar is to be alone. To be the sole person in a crowd. To have countless others by her side but to be the only one there.

A perfect circle without end or beginning. A constant loop. An endless ring of life and death and life again. And again. And again.

She looks in front of her. Where soon there will stand another and then another in front of him. She looks behind. To the unending line so full that it reaches beyond her sight and into obscurity.

She is one among many. She is utterly alone.

Kyoshi merely sighs and keeps going.

-O.o.O-

_Color_

It doesn't mean anything to her. Green. Blue. Grey. Gold.

Red. Black.

Fire shades. Burnt and bloody. Ashes and flames.

Toph can't see them anyway. Doesn't care. No matter how Sokka much grumbles about their clothes. Or how Katara always tenses when she spots the soldiers in their armor. Or how often Aang fidgets with his old headband.

Toph really doesn't get the big deal. Or why everyone seems to care so much. Why it even matters.

Fire is fire is fire. Black and red and gold don't matter.

But Zuko burns bright and warm. Toph snuggles into his side and goes back to sleep.

-O.o.O-

_Color, Take Two_

It all looks the same in the end. Jeong Jeong can't even tell whose blood it is on the ground. In the street. Splattered on the walls. It was all red, and now, it's all gone brown. Black as it mixes with ash.

His boots are coated. So are his hands.

"We didn't have a choice," Piandao says from beside him.

But his voice is soft and somber. Sad.

They've just saved this city. Freed its people.

And it's their own who lay on the ground. Motionless and fragile. Broken and some still bleeding.

It looks just same from the children cowering nearby. From the women weeping in the road. From the men struggling to stand.

It's the same.

That bothers him more than he'll ever admit.

-O.o.O-

_Cold_

It's grey and raining. Pouring down in sheets. And buckets. And maybe even in oceans.

The ground is soft, muddy beneath his boots as Zuko finally stands to survey his work. No one but an earthbender will ever be able to tell something is buried here. Maybe not even then.

Zuko shivers. He can already feel the chill creeping through his skin and muscle, right to his bones. To his fingers and up his arms and into his spine.

No one knows where he is. Aang. Or Sokka. Katara. Toph. Mai. Not even his uncle.

Ozai was many things – Fire Lord, murderer, monster. And prison, losing his bending, his position, his power… It was just too much. Too much to suffer through. Too much to survive.

But Zuko would never leave this task to anyone else. They don't even know yet. No one does but a single guard with eyes too old and a memory too long, but it's a secret that she didn't even have to promise to keep.

Zuko gives a nod then and pauses for a heartbeat longer. Then, he turns away.

He never comes back.

-O.o.O-

_Cold, Take Two_

Death is surprisingly pleasant, Aang decides.

It's soothing.

Like the gentle rock of his kids in his arms as he once sang them to sleep. Like the smell of Katara's favorite flowers. The taste of Iroh's tea or Gyatso's cakes. The sound of Zuko's voice as he and Sokka exchange stories. The feel of Toph as she sits beside him and digs her toes into the dirt.

It's all of these things. And nothing.

Warm. Bright. Dark. Cool.

It's chilly almost. Like the bite of air in the late evening after the sun has gone. Like the nip that makes him reach for a blanket and wrap it around his shoulders. That urges him to lie down and sleep without dreaming.

Aang finally rests.


End file.
